


Mother's Day

by saturated



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-21 22:58:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturated/pseuds/saturated
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A six-year old Sam Winchester learns what really makes a mom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mother's Day

**~May 12, 1989~**

Miss Finnigan walked around her classroom making sure her kindergarten class was completing their assignment. She had told them to write a letter to their mothers, thanking them because Mother’s Day was this coming Sunday. Each child helped brainstorm ideas of things to thank their mothers for and each child was including those in their letter. Except Danny, she remembered, who lost his mother at three.

But then there was Sam Winchester. Miss Finnigan has no idea if he had a mother or not. She had met his father only briefly when he was dropping Sam off last week. She had just enough time to introduce herself before he said goodbye and headed off to work. When Sam hugged his father, she couldn’t help but notice it wasn’t a hug most children give their fathers when they go to work, but more of a hug they give when their father isn’t going to be home for a long time.

However, that couldn’t have been true. Miss Finnigan knew John Winchester had another son, Dean, but he was only ten. There was no way that John could leave his young sons alone to take care of themselves. Sam must have a mother at home.

Miss Finnigan rounded at his desk, peering over his shoulder. The letter was addressed to Dean.

She crouched down next to Sam. “How’s your letter going?”

“Good,” he replied continuing to write.

“You know the letter is for Mother’s Day, right?” she asked, making sure that he understood the assignment.

“Yeah.”

“Then why is it addressed to your brother?” Miss Finnigan asked, fearing that she already knew the answer.

Sam put down his pencil and looked at Miss Finnigan. “Because I don’t have a mommy.”

She knew this answer would come, but with one missing detail. “What about your daddy?”

Sam looked down for a second, and then back up. “You said a mommy is someone who makes you dinner and puts you to bed and sings to you when you can’t sleep and kisses you when you’re hurt to make you feel better and makes you soup when you’re sick. My dad doesn’t do that. My brother does.”

Miss Finnigan stared at Sam with apologetic eyes. John did leave his two young sons alone for days, or possibly weeks. “Well, sweetie,” she started, “I think you understand what the assignment was the best.” She stood up. “Keep on working,” she finished before continuing her rounds.

She wanted to help, but there wasn’t much she could do. Calling child services was not an option, seeing as both boys were quite healthy and apparently happy. The only thing she could do was hope to schedule an appointment with John, and talk to him about his parenting.

Sam and Dean Winchester disappeared from that school and town the next week. She never did get her meeting with John.

 

**~May 14, 1989~**

The cold air of the motel room made Sam wiggle his toes around in his socks. The radio played softly in the corner of the room. He sat at the table working in a math workbook from school. He had already done over half of it in a week, which was where all of the other students were at around Christmas time.

Dean came into the room pulling chips and bread out of his coat. “Soup’s on, Sammy!” he announced putting the bag of chips and loaf of bread on Sam’s workbook. “Quit nerding around and eat something.”

Sam looked skeptically at the food in front of him. “Bread and chips?”

“Yeah,” Dean said trying to fake enthusiasm. “There many wonders among these two foods. You can make a chip sandwich or a… a…” Dean stuttered, struggling to think of more things to make with the two foods.

“You could blend them into a smoothie,” Sam offered.

“Mmm,” Dean mocked playfully, “Bread and chip smoothie, my favorite kind.”

Sam laughed. “I’ll take a sandwich, please.”

“You got it, buddy.”

Sam looked at the food again, remembering last night when Dean realized he was out of money and had called Dad. He thought Sam was asleep, but Sam heard every word out of his older brother. He remembered the plea in Dean’s voice, telling Dad to hurry so Sam wouldn’t have to go hungry. He remembered the pain when Dean agreed to shoplift until Dad got back.

He was brought out of his haze when Dean put a sloppy chip sandwich in front of him. “Eat up.”

“Dean,” Sam said.

“Yeah,” Dean replied sitting at the table with his own sandwich. “What’s up?”

“Did you steal this food?”

Dean looked taken aback at the accusation, or maybe it startled him how straight-forward Sam could be sometimes. “No,” he lied.

“I know you don’t have any more money, Dean,” Sam confessed. “I heard you last night on the phone with Dad.”

Every bit of ‘older brother’ in Dean face washed away and was replaced with ‘parent’. “You know I had to, right, Sammy? I couldn’t let you starve.”

“I know.” Sam took a big bite of his sandwich to let Dean know he understood.

They listened to the radio eating their sandwiches until the radio announcer began talking about the date.

_That’s right, folks, it’s Mother’s Day! So give each and every one of your mothers a great big kiss from me!_

“I think that’s enough radio for tonight,” Dean said getting up to turn off the radio.

“Oh,” Sam said. “That reminds me.”

“Reminds you of what?” Dean asked, unsure of his little brother.

Sam went to his bed and reached under the pillow, pulling out a sloppily put-together card. “This is for you, Dean,” he said, handing the card to Dean.

“What’s it for?” Dean wondered, taking the card.

“Mother’s Day.”

“Mother’s Day? But I’m not…” Dean couldn’t finish.

“I know,” Sam said.

Dean opened the card. Inside, in a six-year old’s handwriting said:

_Dear Dean,_

_Miss Finnigan told me that a mom is someone who makes you dinner and puts you to bed and sings to you when you can’t sleep and makes you soup when you’re sick._

_Thank you for making me dinner every night and putting me to bed and singing to me when I can’t sleep and making soup when I’m sick._

_I know you’re not Mom. But happy Mother’s Day._

_Love, Sammy_

“Sammy, I-“ But he was cut off by Sam wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist.

“Thank you, Dean."

And Dean kept that letter in his jacket for years and years, and even when Sam forgot about it, Dean never did.


End file.
